


A brighter, darker future

by Austrianity



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dependence - Freeform, Dystopia, Emotional Manipulation, Forced Prostitution, Hurt, M/M, Psychological Drama, Refugees, Underage Prostitution, hopeless situation, impasse, supporting a family, triggers maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:39:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austrianity/pseuds/Austrianity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very dark short story, set in the future, after the so-called American-Russian war, about dependence, abuse, rape and prostitution.</p>
<p>Russia and eastern Europe are full of refugees, the prospects are bad, as the war is not over and diseases spread. People are without home and money, and although there is humanitarian help, it's not enough. </p>
<p>Andrew Granger, a London psychologist, is close friends with Russian Vladimir Saizew and his family. Vladimir is killed in the war, and Andrew visits the Saizews frequently. Due to a lack of financial means, he can't help them - until Elena, mother of Vladimir's children, begs him to take one of her underaged children with him to London, and an idea is born, based on the dystopian laws of the new world.</p>
<p>He takes twelve year old Ivan Saizew to London with him, where he prepares him to earn money for his family in an illegal way...</p>
<p>POV changes between omniscient narrator, Ivan's POV and Andy's. It's going to be short chapters. English is not my native language, I beg your pardon for any mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Introduction to Ivan's story. Ivan is 17 years old now, remembering.

When Ivan was just twelve years old, Andy took him away from his family. No, that wasn't true. Ivan went with him out of his own free will. He was needed to ensure a better, a brighter future for his family, his mother kept telling him. And there he went, into the unknown, to encounter a brighter future. At the same time, his own future darkened. 

And today all he wanted was to have died back then. 

To just have died, to just have stopped breathing, just like Dad had, and Maria, and Alexej, to escape the responsibility, the guilt, the worry he had to bear alone. The weight of the family he had to support lay on his shoulders alone, but it wasn't enough for their joined demons to just press down on his shoulders. No. 

Responsibility crushed his shoulders, broke his bones, wore him thin and stretched, hollow.

Responsibility was the one frail thread, the one fine string preventing him from falling to the ground, when all he craved for was to fall. 


	2. Retrospect I

“Andy. Please.” Ivan heard his mother beg mechanically. He felt wretched, like they all felt most of this days, his skin feeling grey, uncomfortable, invisible against his bones. He gently hushed baby Ana to sleep, as his mother had told him, and watched the stranger from his seat at the metal framed bed. Uncle Andy. He heard Uncle swear, and saw him pacing back and forth. Back and forth. 

“Elena, what do you expect from me? I don't have nearly enough money to help you out of this mess, you know that, sweetheart.” Elena looked up at him again blankly, her frail, tired figure tiny in comparison to his. “Please.” she repeated hollowly. 

Ivan watched Andy look away. He didn't know then, but Andy couldn't stand looking at her misery for too long. But there wasn't anything to look at that didn't scream of the refugee's misery in here. 

The whole scene took place in a refugee's camp at the outskirts of former Poland. The American-Russian war had savaged vast parts of eastern Europe, and the refugees were too many to be dealt with. Ivan knew they had been lucky to get into a camp at all – outside people died. Just like that. It was miserable here: too many people, much too few beds, toilets, food. 

Still. Outside it was more miserable. 

Another curse, and Andy's hand ruffled his hair in helplessness. “Believe me, Lena, there is nothing I wouldn't do to help you and your cubs, especially now, after Vlad's... But I can't! You know my situation at home. Concerning money, you know I struggle. There is nothing I can give...” - “But you struggle in England. Not here.” Elena said, voice faint, like it always sounded those days. Andy grimaced. “I know, Lena, everywhere is better than here, but what do you want me to do? I can't smuggle your whole lot outta here! We're not even relatives or something...” - “But one of us. Only one. Couldn't you take one of my children with you?” Elena insisted, and Ivan watched Andy huff with frustration and anger. “And when one of your cubs is in England, what shall I do then? Your children are too young to work there! And I can't afford to send them to school in Great Britain. They would be lost there! That wouldn't do you any good!”

Andy's loud voice startled little Ana, and she started to cry. Ivan tried to calm her, cooing gentle Russian words to comfort her, stroking her head. Andy and Elena looked at them, Elena reaching for Ana. Ivan handed her to his mother and sat back. That was when he noticed Andy's glance lingering on him, thoughts forming a deep wrinkle on his forehead. “They are too young to work in Great Britain legally.” Andy repeated. And Elena looked up to him. “Please, Andy.” And to Ivan's surprise and confusion, Andy suddenly nodded. 

That moment, Ivan's future ended. 


	3. To England

Two weeks later, twelve-year-old Ivan Saizew had found himself at Heathrow Airport, London. 

Uncle Andy wore a dark blue suit and looked professional, walking Ivan towards the exit. Right now, Andy was in a somewhat distant mood, not talking to him, but Ivan was busy thinking anyway. During the flight to London, Uncle Andy had filled him in on the situation. Despite being called uncle by Ivan and his siblings, Andy wasn't related to the Saizews. He was very close to the family through a life-long friendship with Ivan's father Vladimir Saizew, who had been studying in Great Britain before the American-Russian war. 

Before, but especially since Vladimir had been killed, Uncle Andy had visited them regularly in Russia, witnessing all the misery the war had brought over the inhabitants of eastern Europe. 

Ivan had asked Uncle Andy why he couldn't give his mother money, as he had said back in the refugee camp. And Uncle Andy had explained – while he earned enough money with his job as a house psychologist at a big company in London, since his wife Beatrice had divorced him he didn't see too much of this money. What was left of his pay after the rent for his small flat was drawn was spent on food and clothing, and the tiny little rest made up Andy's humble savings, not nearly enough.

He had taken Ivan to Great Britain for Elena, and parting ways with his family hadn't been easy, and confusing. 

His mother had almost crushed him with what strength she had left in that fragile arms of hers, whispering over and over how much she loved him. That wasn't the confusing part though. 

She had looked at him with that horrified eyes, broken beyond repair, her voice dripping with regret. “You're doing this for us, Ivan. You make us live, my sweet boy. And when times are better, we all will be with you in England, love. Don't forget us. We love you.” she kept rambling in Russian, and when she squeezed Ivan the last time, he heard a faint “I'm so sorry.”, and didn't understand. 


	4. Revealing England

Later that day, Ivan found himself in Andy's small flat. It was tidy and neat, and clean. It contained of a tiny kitchen next to a living room, spacious in comparison, and the bathroom, restroom separated from it. There was only one bedroom. The windows were surprisingly big, and now the typical rainy London weather pressed itself against the glass, hoping to escape the darkness dawn brought. 

Andy made them some supper, a simple pasta dish, and encouraged Ivan to make himself comfortable with the flat while he was making tea. Ivan claimed a big and old, but cosy armchair in the living room, and Andy put a hot cup of tea in his hands. Andy went over to the cupboard and fetched a bottle, pouring some Rum into his tea before sitting down on the sofa, half-facing Ivan. 

Dawn had fallen, and Andy hadn't bothered to switch the lights on, so now they sat in semi-darkness, the light of the street light beneath the window casting long, darker shadows into the room, painting the room in a strange atmosphere.

Ivan took a nip of his tea, and instantly liked the taste of it. It was sweetened with honey, and held a fruit flavour that tickled his tongue. 

It was this moment that Andy said: “Ivan, I've got plans for you.” Ivan looked at him. “We need money to help your family. You and I are going to make that money, but it will take some time. Years.” Ivan nodded, but Andy didn't look at him. Curiously Ivan dared to ask: “How will we make that money?” 

Silence. 

As if to postpone the moment of truth, Andy stated: “You're too young to work here legally.” Ivan frowned. “I know, but how are we going to make money then? Why did you take me here?” 

Andy still didn't look at him. He fixed the cup in his hand, his elbows on his knees, his back bent and his shoulders sagging, dragged down by a heavy weight. 

Ivan wasn't afraid, just curious. He trusted Uncle Andy after all. So he repeated his question. “Why did you take me here, Uncle Andy? And what can I do to help Ma?” 

The word “uncle” seemed to hurt Andy. “Because you have a really pretty face, Ivan, and when you're grown up just a little bit more, you will have a nice, appealing body. And please don't call me Uncle anymore... please.”

Ivan was confused. He was still sitting there, tea cup in his hand, trying to figure it out, when Andy got up, exhaling with resignation. 

“Undress.” 


	5. Routine

After the first few weeks a kind of routine settled in their day. Andy arranged a home teacher for Ivan, a 19-year old student named Allison, to teach him proper British English and get rid of his Russian accent, as well as to give him an educational basis. Allison was a literature student, and had few classes this semester, so she had a flexible time table with Ivan to teach him at home. Of course she wasn't a proper teacher, but she was good enough to go through all the stuff children learned at school with him. After each year, Ivan would attend exams for externals, Andy told him.

Allison was a typical cheerful, sweet girl-next-door that put great effort in educating Ivan. They would meet every day, either in the afternoon or in the morning, studying together. Andy had signed Ivan up for kick-boxing lessons as well as breakdance lessons, which occupied four afternoons the week. Kick-boxing would ensure that Ivan could defend himself if he was treated badly. Breakdancing would make him flexible and strong and would form his body. Andy said he saw the money he spent for Ivan on education and training as an investment, and that it would pay off later.

Andy left for work every morning, and gave Ivan books and DVDs and explained the TV to him to keep him occupied. He inculcated the importance of education on Ivan, so Ivan tried his best to educate himself when he was alone. Andy always told him that their current “agreement”, as he called it, although Ivan had never agreed to anything, would not last forever and change in a few years, and after they had succeeded he wanted Ivan to have all the chances in life he could have. 

Ivan thanked him for that. Or so he told himself, over and over. Like he told him that he still trusted Uncle Andy. Like he told himself that there was a future. 

He wanted his family back so badly, and he was scared. Scared out of his wits. 

Because every night, after their shared evening tea, Uncle Andy would teach him. 

He said he'd rather use the time they had to prepare Ivan for serious business. Ivan got used to see the agonized expression in Andy's face, mixed with wicked pleasure, when Andy taught him how to suck his cock properly.

Afterwards his uncle would tell him countless times that he was sorry. That he didn't want to do this. But this was all they had, the only chance for Ma and his siblings to have a better future. Because Andy had a plan. 

And that plan scared the wits out of Ivan, but he clung to it like a drowning man would clutch at a straw. 


	6. The need to learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a dystopian idea behind how Andy is treating Ivan. It will be revealed in a later chapter.

One month before Ivan's thirteenth birthday, after 9 months in Britain, Andy decided to teach him how to be fucked. 

It was evening again. Ivan had nuzzled into his oversized sweater, knees hugged tightly to his chest with one arm, the other one holding his tea cup. He took a sip. Marvellous. Andy had bought him his favourite tea again. 

He took another sip, lost in thoughts. Living with Andy was strange. Ivan still liked him. And Andy made an effort to make Ivan's life as comfortable as possible. Ivan thought that Andy liked him too. That would explain the self-loathing expression that appeared on Andy whenever they talked about Ivan's future. 

There were three sides of Andy, Ivan thought to himself. First, there was his uncle Andy, who cared about him, his education and for his family, who worked hard to achieve their goals. Uncle Andy who took him to the cinema sometimes, who played games with him, who ruffled his hair sometimes and talked to him friendly. Then, there was business Andy. Business Andy crept out of Uncle Andy when evenings passed, after their evening tea. Business Andy would teach him, would talk to him about sex and prostitution bluntly. Business Andy would make him undress, dress, and undress countless times, to teach him how to strip properly, how to make his counterpart want more. Business Andy would shamelessly touch him. Business Andy was brutally honest about the most embarrassing things. And he insisted on absolute obedience on Ivan's part. Business Andy would hurt him if he didn't obey, to punish him, but also to prepare him for what awaited Ivan. 

And thirdly, there was guilty Andy. Guilty Andy would hug him gently in their shared bed after the lessons. Guilty Andy would tend to his bruises and soothe him and stroke him. Guilty Andy would tell him how sorry he was. Guilty Andy would tell him of a better future. Guilty Andy said so many things to comfort Ivan, and so many more things to comfort his own conscience. 

“Ivan.” 

Uncle Andy's call would rip Ivan out of his thoughts, and he quickly took another sip of tea, bracing himself. He risked a glance at Andy's face and knew instantly. It was business Andy's turn now. His heart fell a bit, like it used to do. He just looked at Andy, careful to control his emotions. 

What would he be taught tonight?

He had learned to strip in so many different ways. 

He had learned how to please himself, how to masturbate in an alluring, teasing way. 

He had learned how to jerk Andy off in so many different ways. 

He had learned to suck his cock, to swallow, to deepthroath. 

Uncle Andy was a perfectionist, and so Ivan was very well educated in all of those things, having them practised over and over. 

Andy leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, looking at Ivan. “Get up, Ivan.” 

With regret Ivan thought that his tea would be cold afterwards when he put the cup down and got up immediately. 

“Strip.” Ivan calmly met Andy's glance. “In which way?” he asked. Andy frowned. “You shouldn't ask, Ivan. You should know your customer's wishes, you should be able to read him. So, don't ask, but tell me in which way I want you to strip.” 

Ivan stood there for a while, thinking. “I think you just want me to undress, not to tease you.” Andy nodded in approval. “Well done. Now strip.” 

Averting his eyes, Ivan first pulled of his socks, then his sweater, followed by his pants and underwear. Naked, he stood in front of Andy. Andy's glance ghosted over Ivan's body. He was pleased. Ivan was very mature for his age. It would only take two or three years for him to look like a desirable, young, lean man. Ivan had a really pretty face for a boy, fine and even, very symmetric, with a cheeky nose, fine lips and dark, expressive eyes beneath his perfect eyebrows. His silky hair was a colour between blonde and light brown, and as he didn't cut it because of Andy's orders it was quite long by now, tickling his neck. His body was pale and slender, and with proper training and age he would look gorgeous, muscular in a lean way. Right now, he was stuck between boy and man. But that wasn't a problem. Andy had already found a first customer for Ivan. But before he could send Ivan to him, he had to teach him sex. 

“Come here.” Andy said, and Ivan immediately moved towards him, sinking smoothly to his lap, straddling him. Andy smiled unwillingly. Then he looked Ivan in the eyes. “I'm going to teach you sex today.” Ivan's eyes slightly widened, but he nodded obediently. “At first, I'll prepare you and explain things to you, you're allowed to ask questions. Then I'll fuck you at a gentle pace, afterwards I'll go harder on you to get you used to be fucked. That's it for tonight, okay?” Ivan nodded again. “Okay.” Andy said. “Let's move this to the bathroom.” Wordlessly Ivan followed him. 

In the bathroom Andy instructed Ivan how to use the enema kit he had bought and let him try it a few times. After Ivan was cleansed, Andy took a towel, lube, condoms and latex gloves with him and lead him to the bedroom. 

Ivan lay down as he was instructed, still naked. Andy sat down beside him, looking down on him. “Anal sex is a weird experience. You need to be as relaxed as possible. Good preparation is a great deal when it comes to relaxation. To prepare you I'm going to stretch your anus with my fingers and lube. Remember, stay as relaxed as you can. Come here.” 

Ivan obeyed and crawled over Andy's knees. “Spread your legs.” Again, Ivan obeyed. He looked up, not able to face Andy in this position, and Andy noticed the move. “Will it hurt?” was all Ivan said, with a voice so completely stripped of emotions it hurt Andy. Knowing he would curse himself for his weakness later, he gently ruffled Ivan's hair. “It might. But I'm trying my best to avoid hurting you.” Ivan nodded, and lowered his head again, forehead touching the bed's sheets. 

Andy didn't lose any time. He coated his latex-covered fingers in lube and began massaging Ivan's hole, not inserting his finger yet. 

Relax, relax, relax was what Ivan told himself while he felt panic. He didn't know why, but he had the feeling that this was too much for him. The thought of having another person buried inside him was agonizing. The thought of being that exposed, completely at someone's mercy made him feel sick. He was by no means ready for this. 

When he felt Andy inserting one slick finger into his anus, he lost his cool. “No! Please!” he whispered, his muscles cramping against the intrusion. Andy stopped, and for a moment there was a dangerous silence. 

Ivan was paralysed with anticipation and fear. Would business Andy answer him, with harsh words and punishment? Or would Uncle Andy answer, with guilt in his voice? 

Ivan involuntarily winced when he felt Andy's free hand caressing his back. “Shhhshhh, my good boy.” Andy said gently, and started rubbing patterns to Ivan's bare back. “I'm sorry. You have to do this, Ivan.” 

A sob got caught in Ivan's throat, and he fought against his burning tears. “But...” - “Shhhh...” Andy silenced him, still rubbing his back comfortingly. “Be a good boy, Ivan. For Elena.” 

A wild, big feeling of agony started to rise in Ivan's chest and would have suffocated him, if Andy's finger moving further inside him hadn't made him choke out a sob. 


	7. Breaking Point: The First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> directly continues chapter 6.

Ivan fought so hard not to cry. It distracted him from the second and third finger entering his butt, but on the other hand it made it impossible to relax. “Breathe.” He heard Andy's instruction, and forced out a breath, frantically trying to swallow down his sobs. “In and out. Breathe in and out. Relax, Ivan.” Ivan felt sick. He wanted to shout: I'm fucking TRYING!, but had neither the guts nor the strength. In and out, in and out, he kept telling himself, and tried not to think about how those fingers did just that inside him.

It took him some minutes until he had collected himself again, ready to breath steadily, and some more minutes until he got used to the intrusion of Andy's fingers.

Andy bent down to whisper in his ear: “Okay now, Ivan?” Ivan nodded. “Fine. Now I want you to move. I'll hold my hand steady, and you'll move your ass. Understood?” Again Ivan nodded, and couldn't help the starting tremble. 

It was always like this. The first time was the worst. Ivan couldn't help feeling dirty, used and stripped of his dignity. He felt so utterly wrong, knowing how bad this was, how wrong. But until he knew exactly what he had to do he couldn't let himself fall into the role he had to play. 

Just like Andy had three sides, Ivan had started to develop a second Ivan. He controlled this Ivan with a cold mind, acting, playing his part, actively seeing him as “not me”. Moaning shamelessly came naturally to this other Ivan, as did moving according to the rhythm, rolling his hips, teasing. But it was the real Ivan that had to experience all those first times, before second Ivan could enter the stage and play his part. It was hell. 

Ivan noticed he had hesitated, and tried to get a grip on himself. Andy made an impatient noise, and trembling, Ivan moved his hips, causing Andy's fingers to go deeper. He tried a few times, legs shaking, then picking up a steady pace, back and forth, in and out, in and out. 

“Roll your hips with every thrust, Ivan.” Ivan shuddered, then obeyed, as always, and made Andy's fingers go even deeper, the intrusion tugging at Ivan's inner walls as well as at his heart. 

It was so much worse than being stretched by Andy's fingers. It was setting Ivan at war with himself, and he tried not to think about that he was fucking himself on Andy's fingers. 

Andy felt Ivan growing loose around his fingers. A wicked smile tugged at his lips, but he fought it down in a flash of guilt. He didn't do this for his own amusement, and he didn't do this to hurt Ivan... he did this for Elena, for Ivan, for his family, he did this because of the plan that would save them all. 

He was a psychologist, so it was easy for him to comprehend Ivan's feelings at the moment, and he knew that his next move would deeply disturb the boy, unbalancing him for hours, but he thought it was the best. He coiled his finger upwards a few times, feeling Ivan twitch at the strange feeling, until he hit his prostate. A surprised gasp escaped Ivan's lips, and Andy didn't need to see him to know that his eyes were wide open. 

Ivan stopped abruptly at the searing hot feeling that shot straight into his stomach, electrifying him, stunning him, before pleasure rushed through his body into his brain, spilling over his lips in a genuinely lustful sound. 

Before Ivan could think straight again, Andy said: “That spot was your prostate. As you've experienced, it's very sensible and can bring you pleasure. My advice for you is to search for the right angle to get it hit during sex. It will make all of it more bearable for you. Now try to find the angle.” Ivan reacted immediately, pushing his hips into Andy's hand, varying each thrust to find his sweet spot again, and Andy heard a sigh, nearly a moan, with satisfaction when Ivan had found the right angle. He could feel Ivan's cock get hard between his stomach and Andy's thigh. 

This was terrible, Ivan tried to think, but he couldn't quite manage. It was terrible and terrifying and horrible and wonderful. That feeling... it was horribly pleasuring. And he felt himself making another move without his genuine consent. It completely wrecked him, as his hips rolled against Andy's hand, desperately trying to make his fingers hit the spot. 

Andy let him thrust a bit longer, until he removed his hand and gave Ivan a smack. “Get up and lie down on your stomach, legs spread, ass up.” he commanded while he unfastened his belt and got rid of his trousers, starting to stroke himself even while he was still in the process of undressing. It didn't take him long to accomplish his tasks – clothes were gone, condom was in place, and he rubbed lube onto his member. 

Ivan still trembled, thoughts racing in his mind. He felt so guilty, so soiled. He knew exactly it had been him, his real self, that had reacted to this with pleasure. This was so wrong! His heart missed a beat when he felt the mattress sink behind him as Andy positioned himself on the bed. Andy's hairy legs touched his thighs, and the sick feeling returned as he felt Andy's hard cock prodding at his back, leaving a wet streak of lube. 

“Remember: Relax.” he heard Andy's voice behind him, and shut his eyes. 

Andy's cock spread him wider than his fingers had, and Ivan held his breath and tried, tried so hard not to tense up. 

Andy was gentle, as he had promised, letting Ivan get used to his cock. Minutes were passing, and as much as he wanted to, he did not move it that hot, tight hole of Ivan's. 

Ivan kept his eyes shut. He didn't even want to think about how Andy's length was up his ass, deep inside him, intruding, impaling him. When Andy moved, Ivan couldn't help but hiss – hiss at the strange feeling, hiss at the pain it caused him, hiss at the unwanted, hot skin pressing against his back. “Shut up.” he heard, and muffled himself with a fistful of linen sheets. 

Andy fucked him gently at first, allowing Ivan to have a little control, allowing him to adjust their position so he could find that sweet spot again. After some time, he had indeed found that spot, and Andy witnessed a sweet sound escaping Ivan's mouth. It took all his control to keep up the slow pace, when all he wanted was to fuck him, fuck him hard. But he managed to keep it up, and found Ivan's hips rocking in rhythm with his own. 

Over that sweet sensation Ivan could almost forget how wrong this was, how this violated his whole self, his status as a human being, as a child, degrading him to something being trained to obey, like a dog. Almost he could forget over the real lust he now felt, almost he could forget how ashamed he was of that lust. But then Andy destroyed it. 

“Ready to go hard?” Andy panted, and Ivan tensed, his fragile escape bursting into pieces as he developed panic. “No!” he winced, all to aware of that cock inside him, of his aggressor right inside him, having absolute control over him. He tried to pull away from Andy. “No, please, I don't want this!” 

With fear clutching at his heart he heard Andy huff, and felt an iron grip at his hips. “Stay, Ivan!” Andy growled. He almost lost his control. “You need to learn this.” But now Ivan was struggling for real, trying to get away. “No! Please, no! Please, Uncle Andy, stop it! I don't want it! Stop, please!” he cried, and something stung in Andy's heart. “I told you not to call me uncle!” he hissed and grabbed the boy's hips mercilessly. “Learn it! For your mother's sake, child! We both are doing - this - for - her!” he grunted, accompanying each word with a sharp thrust, now losing his control and fucking him really, really hard. 

That was the point when Ivan broke. 


	8. Integrity Lost

Later that night, Ivan felt Andy's hands ghosting over his body, wiping away sweat and semen from his skin with a rough towel. Ivan just kept his eyes closed and lay still, petrified with what had happened. 

He had not wanted that. He had hated it. He was scared, oh so scared of it. 

Deep inside, somewhere between his stomach and his chest, a deep wounded feeling had started to bleed into all of his other body parts. If he were a painting, Ivan thought numbly, he would something abstract, a white human-looking thing, without expression, just a frame, with a red, ugly bullet hole blossoming on his chest, blood soiling the perfect white, guilt. 

He had not wanted it. He had lost something, something precious to him, but he hadn't quite figured out what it was. And over this strange, bleeding feeling of loss, he despised himself. 

His body had reacted to the stimulation after all, hadn't it? Some part of this horrifying experience had felt incredibly good. Some part of him had moved his hips according to Andy's rhythm. He had come, after all. 

Right now, he felt in strange disunion, body and mind fighting each other, accusing each other, struggling over control. He didn't even now where to start sorting out this mess out. He felt empty, and hollow, hollow and empty enough to fill all of the universe, it's cold and haunted space, it's timeless dark. 

And at the same time, he was so small, so insignificant, a nearly thirteen-year-old boy lost in the tousled sheets. 

He didn't belong here. The room was clean now. The used latex gloves and the condom had disappeared, as had the lube. For Ivan, the room was almost sterile, the complete opposite of his soiled, used self, the faint odour of sweat and sex cast away by the cool night air invading the room through the open window. 

Andy came back and Ivan realized that he hadn't noticed his leave at all. Another time, the mattress sank where Andy's weight pressed into the material. “Ivan.” said Andy, and it startled Ivan, because he actually said “Ivan” like it was supposed to be said, with a sharp, pointed Russian I, not that alienation to another, softer name the English pronunciation caused. 

He heard Andy sigh, and knew that it was guilty Andy's turn now. Andy rolled over from his side, watching Ivan for some time, before he gently hugged him from behind, untangling Ivan's arms from his desperate clutch at his knees with mild force. 

“Ivan. Please try to relax.” Ivan sensed Andy's hand caressing his cheek with long, comforting strokes and opened his eyes to stare at the wall. He felt Andy's warm body clothed in his pyjamas pressed against his back, and his breath in his ear as Andy said: “I know you're in a conflict with yourself now. And I'm so sorry Ivan... you know we need to do this, don't you? I wish I could think of another way to get your family out of their misery, but this plan is all I have. I'm not smart enough to come up with another one. And believe me, I'm blaming myself more than you could ever do.” Andy sighed again, giving the boy in his arms a light squeeze. “But that's not the point for now... I know you struggle with yourself, Ivan. You didn't want it, you were afraid, but yet your body betrayed you, enjoyed some of this, made you come.” Ivan shivered violently at the brutality of those words. It was exactly how he felt, betrayed. Ripped apart in two, in disunion with himself. 

“Shhhh...” Andy whispered, still caressing his cheek and hugging him from behind. “We need to solve this problem, Ivan, or you could really damage your mental health. I've got a solution for you. It's by no means ideal, and I would never advise any of my patients to do this, but this situation is so very unlike anything I encounter in my job... so, I've got a solution. Do you want to hear it?” 

Silence, while Ivan considered. He was almost glad to feel fear clutch at his heart violently, yanking him out of his numbness. His mental health was in danger? 

He could not cave in to that. He wouldn't allow himself to shatter, he wouldn't allow himself to... to un-become Ivan. His family needed Ivan, he himself needed him to be and stay himself. So he nodded. 

“Okay.” Andy said softly. “Try to let your body win... allow yourself to let go. Give up control over your body and silence your mind.” Ivan shivered again, not believing what he heard. That was a solution?! “But how am I supposed to do that...” he whispered into the semi-darkness of the bedroom.

“How about this, Ivan.” Andy suggested,, almost kindly. “Whenever you are in a situation like this, try to trick your mind. Tell your head you want this, you need to do this, tell your head you have chosen to do this. Tell your mind it's okay to enjoy it. Resolve that disunity between your body wanting it and your mind restraining that want. Give up the fight.” 

Ivan kept silent for some time. “You mean, I could actually trick my mind into wanting... wanting sex like this?” he asked then, voice failing him. He felt Andy's nod. “Yes, in a way, at least. It would make things easier for you.” 

Ivan shook his head slightly. “But Uncle Andy... I don't want to want it. It's... it's wrong.” 

Another sigh, and Andy hugged him tightly, embracing Ivan in the warmth of another human body, giving him what comfort he could offer after what had happened. “I know, my boy, I know. And I'm so sorry... But there is no other way. And really, it would be very sensible. I mean, you need to do this anyway, so why not allow yourself to enjoy it?” 

It took some time, but then Ivan nodded. He had made up his mind; he would try his best. Lost in thought and silent, he let Andy help him into a t-shirt and boxers for the night, thinking, thinking, deciding on something. 

He would try to give up resistance against this violation of his own free will. He would toss the integrity aside, the integrity of being human, being worthy, being asked. He needed to. 

He would surrender. 


	9. Red

It was nearly a week later and several underground stations away, that a nervous Andy met Ivan late in the evening.

“Ivan.” he said with relief. “I've already been waiting some time and was about to decide whether or not I should go get you.”

Ivan wore a thick grey sweater, hood pulled up, hands buried in the pockets of his tight jeans. “Getting dressed took me a while, sorry.” he murmured. Andy felt the uncomfortable atmosphere tingling in the air, and shifted his weight in unease. “Why?” he asked and felt stupid, as Ivan gave him a clearly reproachful look. “Have you ever tried to get into those damn jeans when covered in sweat?” he hissed and started walking towards the underground station. Andy only hesitated for a split second, then followed him. 

They spent the ride home in silence, although Andy was practically shaking with morbid curiosity, but held it together, feeling an ashamed, moral compulsion. But Ivan remained silent and distant, looking at anything and anyone but Andy. 

To Andy it seemed as if Ivan had grown overnight – yesterday he had faced a terrified boy who begged him to cancel the meeting with O'Rourke, shaking with tears unshed, tormented by unspoken terror.

Today nothing remained of that trembling, scared core. Today Ivan's desperation was clad in a chilling, distant cool. 

Andy fumbled with the keys for some time, before he unlocked the door and let them in. Ivan got in first and didn't even stop to take off his shoes, heading off into the flat. 

“Where you going?” Andy asked in a raised voice, eyes following Ivan. “Shower.” was the answer he hardly caught. Then the bathroom door slammed shut. 

Andy closed the front door, taking off his shoes and his coat, feeling like the cold trickled off his shoulders like rain. He approached the bathroom door and knocked cautiously. “I'm going to make tea. Want some?” 

A short silence followed. Then a muffled “Yeah.” fought it's way through the closed door to Andy's ear. He sighed softly and went into the kitchen. 

Ivan stared at his own reflection in the mirror, studying his facial features, O'Rourkes hoarse voice still ringing in his ear: “Damn, lad, you're pretty.”

Ivan wanted nothing more than to unhear those words. 

Just minutes later hot water pearled down his skin and he breathed in water vapour, thinking. How was he going to do this? Should he go through his normal shower routine? Should he first erase all signs of unwanted touch on his body? 

He was stuck between those two options, and found it remarkably difficult to choose. Hot water searched its way down his body, slipped so easily into all of his private zones in its own subtle way, forced itself into his privacy. But in contrast to former intrusions Ivan welcomed, invited the water. It made it easy to believe he would be clean again. 

He had finally decided on what to do and started with washing his hair. After that, Ivan began to scrub his skin with soap and a sponge. And didn't stop. 

Andy sat in the living room, two cups of steaming tea on the coffee table, and wondered what took Ivan so long. 

Unwillingly, memories flashed from that hours before. Helpless... he had been utterly helpless, invaded and possessed... what would he give to never have heard O'Rourke's disgusting grunts and moans, to never have felt that man inside of him... He knew there would be bruises on his hips, his thighs, his wrists tomorrow. If he could just escape from his own skin... 

Andy waited for another ten minutes, then he got up from the sofa and walked towards the bathroom door. “Ivan?” The water was still running, but he got no answer. Worried, half-thought thoughts spun inside his head as he opened the door and was embraced by damp, warm water vapour. “Ivan!” 

Within a few steps he had reached the bath tub and yanked the curtain away. Ivan didn't even look at him, but concentrated on rubbing the sponge hard across his reddened, swollen skin. “What are you -? Stop it!” Andy said and wrested the sponge out of Ivan's shaking hand. “Enough shower for you today, mate.” Andy said, not showing his worries, and switched off the water. 

Gently he managed to get Ivan out of the bath tub and dried him with a soft towel, careful not to abrade his skin further. Angry red covered parts of his body where Ivan had desperately scrubbed his skin, in a faint try to get clean, never clean enough. 

Ivan just watched him out of his dark, expressive eyes. After Andy had wrapped him in his own bath robe, he moved his lips in an inaudible whisper. 

Andy saw him. “Pardon?” he said, while fastening the belt around Ivan's waist. 

Again Ivan moved his lips, eyes fixed on Andy, and this time, Andy caught the few, breathless words: 

“I hate you.”


End file.
